


Fraction

by decidueye



Series: Swing At Me [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Communication, Fixing things, Other, Relationship Study, teenagers...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: Keiji thinks about Bokuto, and grows up a little





	Fraction

**Author's Note:**

> psych!!! guess who couldn't leave their own vent fic alone!!! no unhappy endings for this pairing!!!!!

Keiji goes home and broods over their textbooks, answering the next week’s questions when they are done with this week’s. When their mother calls them for dinner, they eat mechanically, giving answers by rote and though she knows something is wrong, she doesn’t press them; Keiji has always needed time to process things.

After that, they fill their schedule. It isn’t hard - Keiji has gone above and beyond in their final year, taking on responsibilities that ought to make them the ideal prospective college student. An extra practice here, council meeting there, and a couple of friendly matches with neighbouring schools are all it takes for them to be fully distracted, morning til night, for the next two weeks. For some reason, everyone is as keen for a distraction as they are, eager to fill their own weekends with extra training. It could be winter, Keiji wonders, leaning back in their chair, or perhaps the gods are being kind to them.

Three days later Keiji has texted Bokuto with one line excuses, all true, and even though they aren’t avoiding him Bokuto has begun to send singular crying emojis spaced out evenly over the course of the day. He is playing the fool, Keiji thinks, and they don’t indulge him, even though the thought of him setting himself reminders to send those texts (the only way he could be so regular with his memory) makes them smile. They are bitterly glad that they still occupy his mind, if only because they’re ignoring him, and then they cringe, too self aware to let that pettiness pass without reprimand.

Maeda attends that weekend’s practice match, tucked in the corner of the gym so as not to draw attention, and Keiji plays badly, preoccupied. At first they aren’t sure how Maeda found them, but it’s obvious that Bokuto would have talked about his old school. He couldn’t have known they would be here on a Sunday, though, so he must have gambled by coming here - unless he lived close by.

Dwelling on it doesn’t answer any of Keiji’s questions, but they continue all the same, and when their coach benches them in the second half of the match under the pretence of letting next year’s starting line up play, they aren’t surprised. Maeda meets their gaze for a moment, but doesn’t approach them, instead waiting until they are changed and at the school gates to talk.

“You’re pretty young, aren’t you?” Maeda says, and Keiji frowns.

“What?”

“I’m just saying…” he says with a shrug. Keiji only scowls deeper. There is no such thing as ‘just saying’; the phrase is a pet hate of theirs, a way of skirting around someone’s true motives.

Keiji starts to walk home and Maeda goes with them, his hands in his pockets. Keiji doesn’t turn him away, even though they think about it. They’re too curious, now, and Maeda is special to Bokuto, which makes him special to them, in some way or another. They peer at him from the corner of their eye, hiding behind hair that needs cutting.

“I like action movies,” Maeda says eventually, the sound almost startling Keiji. “I hate horror. Bokkun tried to make me watch one once and I threw up in his lap.”

“I love horror,” Keiji says slowly. 

“I know. Bokkun does too - or he does now, anyway.”

Keiji remembers. Bokuto had regarded Keiji’s collection of horror films with dread and awe, decrying every single one until Keiji had told him which were their favourites, and then he’d promptly announced that they were going to watch all of them until he was no longer afraid. That wasn’t the point of horror films, Keiji had thought, but they had done it anyway, and at the end of a year Bokuto was more of an enthusiast than they were.

“Bokuto got me to toss to him once and I didn’t even keep the ball in the court,” Maeda continues. “I didn’t even play volleyball in high school. Soccer was more my thing.”

“Sakamoto is his setter,” Keiji says instantly. “Or Ryoka, he’s Toudai’s second.”

“He wasn’t practicing. He just wanted me to do it. Just like he wanted me to read to him, but I didn’t have the patience, and he wanted to get shaved ice with me, but I have sensitive teeth.”

“Where are you going with this?” Keiji asked. These are all things that Keiji has done with Bokuto; is Maeda mad that he is trying to recreate their experiences? It’s hardly their responsibility, and it feels a little like rubbing their nose in it.

“I laugh at his jokes, though. And I’ll eat the same amount of meat as him - I know you’ve got an appetite, but you’re vegetarian,” Maeda says, stopping to face them. His hands are still in his pockets, but he’s smiling now, keeper of an amusing secret. “I don’t fall asleep during action movies because I like them, and I don’t immediately try to solve his problems when he talks about them. Then again, I never try to help him solve his problems when he wants me to. I’m much better at listening and I can barely keep my own life together, you know?”

Keiji laughs at this, a little strained but genuine. Maeda is speaking in riddles, but they’re starting to catch his meaning.

“You  _ do _ try to solve his problems,” they tell him. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Ouch,” Maeda replies, hand on his heart. “Not really though. I just get it. You’re young.”

It’s infuriatingly condescending, but Keiji can see that Maeda is not wrong. They have been petty, and they have hated Maeda for no reason, when it is clear now that had they given him a chance they would have found justification in no time.

“I don’t like finding out about changes in my status through offhand comments to third parties,” Keiji says, embarrassingly stiff, and Maeda doesn’t even pretend not to laugh at them.

“‘In high school Akaashi was my best friend in and now they’re not’?” he asks, “or ‘Akaashi was my best friend out of everyone at high school, and now we aren’t there anymore’?”

Keiji stares at Maeda, aghast, and he shrugs again. Keiji would punch him if they didn’t know he was there to make them feel better.

“I don’t know what he meant either. I haven’t asked him,” Maeda says. “Maybe someone should.”

Keiji doesn’t bother to say goodbye. Their house is near Bokuto’s, and though Keiji’s parents hate guests dropping in unannounced Bokuto’s have never had any such restrictions. They quicken their pace and Maeda drops behind them with a casual grace, no doubt immensely pleased with himself. Keiji is infuriated because Maeda has every right to be. They had doubted Bokuto and not even given him a chance to explain himself, if there was even anything to explain.

Bokuto answers the door when Keiji knocks, harsher than intended, and Keiji  _ is _ young, because when they see his face they can do nothing but bury their own into his chest, eyes shut tight as they try to compose themself, fists clenched at their sides.

Hands land on their shoulders, solid and warm; an anchor. Keiji feels Bokuto’s concern through his touch, even when they can’t see his face.

“I’m sorry,” they say, pulling back, and Bokuto looks at them blankly, then beams.

“It’s fine, Akaashi!” he says blithely. He has no idea what he is forgiving them for, but Keiji knows without a doubt that he is telling the truth. “Do you want to come in?”

Keiji does.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/raindryad) or [tumblr](http://deciduice.tumblr.com) if you too can't bear to leave bokuaka ambiguously unhappy.


End file.
